


Torture in Helplessness

by Lilly_Bei_Stark



Category: Hellboy - All Media Types
Genre: Antarctica, Elves, M/M, Non-Graphic Rape/Non-Con, Non-Graphic Torture, Realizing the good of others in extreme circumstances, Svartans(Dark Elves)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-24
Updated: 2016-08-24
Packaged: 2018-08-10 20:56:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7860811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lilly_Bei_Stark/pseuds/Lilly_Bei_Stark
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John trades himself for Abe's second chance at love and finds a chance at something all his own.</p><p>A/N: I've said before that Hellboy/John Myers is my favorite pairing. That hasn't changed. I just also like Nuada/John now too. I guess John is just too darn cute and such a pliable character to work with. And since the Nuada/John pairing fanbase is even smaller than the HB/JM pairing fanbase, now I want to add to that selection of works. Apparently my brain sees small fandoms and the gears will finally turn. </p><p>Warnings: Graphic violence, mentions of rape, M/M kissing, and probably some swearing. This one's not for the faint of heart and I really had to debate with myself over writing it. </p><p>Disclaimer: I don't own Hellboy, I just love to play with the characters.<br/>DON'T LIKE, DON'T READ! I don't want comments because your sensibilities were offended when I clearly warned you about what was to come.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Torture in Helplessness

**Author's Note:**

> There's no smut. Just fair warning before you get any expectations. Sorry!!!

John was very worried. It had been three months since his former coworker and friend had come to the secluded base in Antarctica. Since then, he had thrown himself into any work that he could find. It took a lot of convincing to get him to rest, and even more to get him to eat his favorite rotten eggs. That was why John was worried. 

Abe had always been a kind, intelligent figure that provided a wealth of information to anyone who asked. His relaxed temperament made him hard to dislike, and his helpfulness had always given John the boost that he needed when he was down. Seeing him depressed like this was painful. 

Four months earlier, John's former team with the BPRD had fought and won against an elven prince that wanted to annihilate the human race with an army of merciless golden machines. The event of a near apocalypse was starting to become an annual thing. While the team had successfully stopped the army and defeated the prince, Abe lost the woman that he had started falling in love with. The elven princess, Nuala, was the prince's twin and the two shared a bond that caused one to receive any hurt inflicted on the other. The mirror injuries on both had been why Hellboy defeated Nuala's brother and yet let him live. That should have been the end of things, but when the prince drew a knife to attack him, his sister had taken a similar blade to her own heart in order to stop him. From Abe's description, it had been a valiant and selfless effort. One that had left the icthyo sapien with memories and sadness. 

The entire team quit the BPRD that day. It wasn't hard to understand why. Then, with no where to really go from there, Abe had come to John. The agent was more than happy to see him, despite the circumstances. It had been too long since Hellboy suggested John be transferred to Antarctica. He hadn't seen any of the team since then, although Liz would write to him occasionally. Having Abe come to the edge of the world, asking to stay for a while, made John's day at the time. He hadn't imagined that he would find himself feeling completely helpless so soon after. 

This wasn't the type of helplessness that came during a battle, where knowing his own weakness wouldn't stop him from fighting alongside his friends. This was the helplessness where his friend was hurting and he couldn't do anything to fix it. 

Well, maybe he couldn't fix it. But he'd be damned if he didn't try. 

That was what led John to the containment cells of the Antarctica base. He walked through the hall, staying to the middle where he wouldn't be grabbed by anyone or anything that he was passing. The cells held all assortment of paranormal creatures that had popped up in the frozen wasteland outside. Some were native to the ice, others looked like they had traveled from somewhere else. All of them had attacked. Nothing made it to the cells unless it was a threat. That was why it was probably a bad idea for John to be going to 'her'. Still, if anyone knew how to answer his question, she would.

He stopped alongside the cell, only then walking out of the middle of the hall. The occupant of the small room was sitting on the floor, facing away from him. Long, dark hair trailed down her back gracefully and she gave off an air of power that couldn't be guessed at from simply looking at her. When John approached the bars of her cell, she turned her head slightly, offering a ghost of a smile on her dark lips. 

They had a strange relationship. John had been the one to finally capture this prisoner, resulting in her current incarceration, but he knew it was only because she had let him. He always felt that she knew something about him that she refused to tell. Behind the unmarred, dark skin, taunting eyes, and that carefully maintained smile, she knew something. 

John slowly went to his knees, sitting back on his heels. Whenever the two of them talked, it was like this. They sat, respectful, and talked for however long the agent had. No matter how long they spoke, John always walked away more confused than when he'd arrived. 

"Agent John T. Myers." Her voice was like velvet. John swallowed, trying not to let the nervousness show on his face. 

"Meladae." He flashed her a small smile. She turned slowly to face him. She was sitting cross legged, her deep purple dress tucked around her legs tightly. Her unearthly green eyes fluttered at him. 

"Ask." Her smile grew slightly, still delicate on her face. She was a mask of perfection. One that he knew was fake. He had seen her face when she fought. Blood splattered over her skin. It was terrifying in ways that the monsters he had fought couldn't ever top. 

"Is there a way to bring an elf back to life?" He let the words fall between them bluntly. He had tried to use small talk with Meladae before. It didn't do any good. He had learned that the woman before him was more likely to answer his questions if he asked them outright. 

"Such a strange query, Agent Myers." She tilted her head, letting her hair shift around her long, pointed ears. It was her ears that had made him ask if she was an elf the first time they talked. She had laughed at him then. It took him three weeks to get her to tell him what she was. A Svartan. Meladae was from a race of dark elves, the polar opposite of the elves that his friends had met. Even though she was a different race, she was just as old. Very old and very knowledgeable. 

"I want to resurrect Princess Nuala of Bethmoora." He shifted a little as his feet began to fall asleep from his position. Meladae's eyes scanned over him. The action was innocent enough, but gave John the feeling that she was looking into his soul.

"You wish to bring back someone you have never met. Why is that, Agent Myers?" John didn't know how she could tell that he'd never met the princess. He didn't bother to ask. 

"My friend... The two of them were close and her passing has... changed him. He is depressed now... broken." He squared his shoulders a little. Meladae raised her hand to press one of her neatly manicured nails to her bottom lip. 

"Such a pure soul, Agent Myers." She fixed him with a dark smile, this one far more menacing. He never liked having that look appear. It always meant that what she was about to say would cause him some kind of trouble. As much as she acted like she liked him, Meladae seemed to get sadistic glee from his misfortune. 

"I'll do anything to help my friends." He gripped his slacks tightly. "Please." Her smile broke, rows of sharp white teeth on display for him. 

"Then listen well, Agent John T. Myers. Here is the information you'll risk your life for."

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John left a letter for Abe in the back of his latest book. He knew it wouldn't be too long before his friend found it. Then he would understand John's sudden disappearance. The agent walked from the base, dressed in his winter gear, and made his way into the ice. He had sent a letter with his request to the address that Meladae gave him. One week later, he received a reply, telling him the coordinates he was to meet the sender at. In return for himself, the mystery mailer would bring Princess Nuala back to life and deliver her to Abe at the base. This was the day. He felt his heart seizing as his boots crunched through the snow and ice. He was only to get past the sensors of the base to meet his contact. That way he could see everything of the building that had been his home until recently as it laid on the blanket of white serenely. He wanted to see them deliver Nuala before he let them take him. 

"John Myers?" He spun at the sound of the voice behind him. The ice had been clear before. There was full visibility for miles, yet behind him stood a tall man with the same features as Meladae, with the exception of gender and size. 

"A-are you the one who responded to my letter?" John tried not to feel intimidated. The man gave him a slow nod. His green eyes flicked up to the base behind him. John turned, eyes struggling to see over the distance. Another Svartan was guiding a beautiful woman to the base. They both walked with brisk grace that only fit something supernatural. John's straining eyes appraised the woman. Her white-gold hair, pale skin, and slight figure seemed to fit the description that Abe had given him.

"Our promise is upheld. Now you are ours." The large hand closed around John's neck, making him flinch. He turned his head to look back at the tall Svartan. 

"You swear that was Nuala? Meladae told me I had to ask, because you could not lie." He locked his deep brown eyes on the face above him. The man gave a sneer, showing the same pointed teeth as Meladae had. 

"I swear that the woman was Nuala and no harm shall come to her or any other residents of your base, provided that you uphold your end of the bargain." He squeezed John's neck, causing the agent to cough as his vision swam. 

"Nnn...okay..." He closed his eyes. Death was coming. He had agreed to give himself over to them in return for Nuala. It wasn't so bad. She made Abe happy. He hadn't lied when he said that he would do anything for his friends. They had been the sole source of joy in his life. The first ones to see him as he was, rather than seeing him as an unfinished project to be carved into shape. The hand on his neck tightened further. 

_Good bye Abe. Good bye Liz and HB. Thank you...for everything..._

"Good night, Agent Myers." 

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John groaned as he woke. He hadn't expected to wake up. His head hurt so badly. His neck was aching too. He opened his eyes slowly. Light filtered into his eyes through the lashes. He was laying on something hard. The texture looked like stone, but it was too dark to know for sure. The light was somewhere above him. It had to be some kind of torch, judging by the way the shadows danced over the walls. He blinked slowly. Breathing was hard. He knew he should be getting up, canvasing the room, but it was so hard to breathe. He closed his eyes again. Maybe he could just fall back to sleep. He wasn't sure where he was and the stone was far from comfortable, but he was so tired that it hardly mattered. Just as he was starting to drift again, something nudged his shoulder. He grunted. Sleep was so close. The nudge pushed his shoulder again.

"Human." John's eyes opened when a soft voice joined the nudge. 

"H-huh...?" He asked, voice coming out in a light rasp.

"Wake, human." John turned his head towards the voice slowly. His neck strained. As his head came up, his eyes fell on a set of bars. Behind them was a room, similar to the one he was in, and a man. His skin was pale, eyes golden, and hair the same white-gold as that of the woman he'd been told was Nuala. He would have thought that this was the princess, but it was most definitely a man. Were all elves like this? He was handsome. Very handsome, but he also looked very angry. John swallowed slowly.

"I-I'm awake..." He whimpered. The sound of his voice was abrasive to his ears. He wanted to sleep so badly.

"Good. Now get up." The elf ordered. John felt his body protest as he moved to follow the command. He caught a glimpse of himself. His clothes were rumpled and torn in places. It looked like he had been dragged. He looked at the elf again, eyes a little more clear as he appraised him. His eyes watched John in scorn, but it seemed like there was more in his mind than could ever show on his face. He wore elegant clothing with light armor. It shaped to him, curved around his muscles as if it had been molded to him. 

"Now...?" He murmured, too tired to do anything on his own. He was forcing himself up on the elf's demand alone. Still, the voice guiding him offered a pinpoint of clarity.

"Come here." John stepped closer, until he was a hair's breadth from the bars. The elf reached through, grabbing a handful of his shirt, and jerked him close. John yelled when he slammed into the solid bars. His chest pressed to them tight, head cracking on the cold metal. The elf leaned close, hissing at him in a menacing tone. "Where am I, human?" He spat angrily. John closed his eyes. The grip on his shirt was tight, holding him too close. He raised his hands to pull at the grip on him. 

"L-let go! I don't know!" He felt another hand fist in his hair, pulling painfully. 

"Why am I here?" John grimaced.

"I don't know!"

"You may as well release him, Prince Nuada." Another voice cut in. John was released suddenly, falling back to the ground hard. He winced. Sleep a fleeting hope that was fading from his mind, John pushed himself into a sitting position. He truly observed the room around him for the first time. He was in some kind of dungeon. Two stone walls sat to his right and back. Bars separated him from the elf's cell and a small path in front of him. One of the Svartans, the one that he had spoken to before waking up here, was standing in the middle of the path. His lips were twisted in a wry smirk. "Good morning, Agent Myers." The man greeted. John gave him a slow nod.

"Where am I?" The elf prince growled from his left. John looked back at him, raising a hand to his throat. Prince Nuada... His sluggish mind clicked and he realized why the elf looked so similar to Nuala. This was her brother. The twin that she was connected to who gained her injuries and vice versa. The Svartan chuckled, calling the agent's attention back to him. 

"You, Prince Nuada, do not need to know where you are. All you need to know is that you are alive and the bond with dear Princess Nuala is intact." He turned his green eyes to John. "And you," He smirked, "are our new slave. You gave yourself to us freely and you will follow our every command. If you don't..." He looked to Nuada again. "Prince Nuada of Bethmoora will die a very painful death. I'm sure the princess will deal with the slow agony in a far different manner from the stoic prince." John's eyes widened in horror at the revelation. He shot to his feet, moving to the bars at the front of his cell. 

"Don't! Please! Please don't hurt them!" He gripped the bars tightly. Fear was pounding through him with every heartbeat. He had thought they meant to kill him. A life for a life. This...this was something he hadn't thought could happen. The Svartan raised a hand, white painted nails trailing under John's pale throat.

"Come with me, Agent Myers. You start your first day as a slave right now." He opened the cell door with a leisurely motion. The door creaked loudly. John stepped out, eyes on the Svartan warily. He knew better than to run. It wouldn't do him any good. The Svartan would be faster than he was and he wouldn't risk the lives of Nuada and Nuala. The Svartan gave him another sharp toothed grin, hand on the back of his neck, and led him away. The last thing John saw before they left the cells was Nuada, watching silently and calmly. 

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Days melted into weeks. John couldn't count the number. He could barely even remember where one day ended and another began. His days were full of cleaning a large throne room with a brush and a bucket. If the marble floors didn't shine with light like an ebony mirror, he was beaten. Sometimes his blood painted the floor and he would be forced to clean one handed as he held the other to his injury to try and staunch the blood flow. His clothing had been reduced to tatters. Each bleeding wound had made another part of his outfit into a bandage, ripped apart and tightly bound once he reached his cell. His shirt was nearly gone and he had even torn his shoes apart to make a brace when one of his wrists had been struck with enough force to break it. 

Every night in his cell, he sat next to the prince as he fixed his battered body. Prince Nuada seemed on edge, though it had taken John a while to get used to the way he showed it. Often times, he would see the prince sitting in the center of his cell. He seemed like he was meditating. That was when he was calmest. Lately, however, he had taken to pacing. Languid steps took him parallel with the bars that separated them. John might've thought the prince was watching him, if he didn't know about his contempt for humans. Still, he didn't complain about his situation, which John appreciated. His hatred of humans aside, it was considerate of him not to blame John. He might have gotten the both of them caged up in this Svartan dungeon, but his cause was good. And at least Nuada was unharmed.

The first time he spoke to the prince, he was answered with silence. John wasn't even sure why he'd done it. Admittedly, he had been kicked in the head earlier that day. Something in the prince's pacing caught his attention. He had the same measured step as usual when the Svartan man brought John back to his cell. He kept his eyes off of the human, following only the dark elf as he entered and left with a stern glare. Then, he turned to pace towards the back wall and stopped. 

John wasn't entirely sure why. He was merely concerned when the familiar, rhythmic steps went silent. The steps had become the echo to his own heart beat. Silence felt strange. Wrong, somehow. He raised his eyes to the prince, curious why he had stilled. 

Golden eyes were fixed on him, boring into him with an inscrutable look. John blinked. Why was he staring? Was he really staring? Or was John hallucinating? If he was, it was a nice hallucination. An attractive man was staring at him. That hadn't happened in... 

John raised a hand to his head. Thinking hurt. Something hot and sticky touched his palm. He grimaced, pulling his hand away. Thick red stained his flesh, answering many of his questions at once. So that was why Prince Nuada was staring at him. He was probably enjoying the blood pumping out of his body. It was a head wound, after all. There was likely a lot of blood. He smiled to himself, knowing the expression had to look goofy. It was nice that he could give Nuada some enjoyment. He had to be bored in this cell all the time. 

John started to tear his shirt, taking pieces to bandage the wound carefully. His head spun, but his consciousness mercifully stayed. He found himself looking up at Nuada again. He was still watching. John found his thoughts bubbling up and flowing away, as if they were being pumped out with his blood. One finally stayed long enough for him to grasp it. 

"I'm sorry." He heard the words leave his lips before he felt his mouth move. 

Silence. Well, that was no surprise. He gave the prince a genuine smile, feeling his entire world spinning. "I know humans did some terrible stuff in the past...and now you're suffering because of me." 

Again, silence. John finished tying off the bandage on his head. "I hope the elves can come back...humans can be mean, but some are okay...I hope they make up for what we did..." He laid down on the floor. The cold stone felt like heaven against his cheek. "I...wonder if they'll let you go if I die..." He mused aloud. The thought festered until dizziness hit him again and pulled it away. "Maybe...I should hurry up and die...then...if you're free...you can see your sister...." He swallowed, opening his eyes. 

Nuada was still watching him, but it was getting hard for John to see with the darkness creeping at the edge of his vision. "Please...don't kill all of humanity...there's some good...it's just hard to find..." His eyelids were heavy and the silence was deafening. "So...I hope you're free soon...sorry...about everything..." He closed his eyes again. Silence drifted on. It seemed like he really was dying. Then, the footsteps returned. John smiled softly. His heart beat in sync with the steps and he let go of his consciousness to sleep. 

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It had been thirteen beatings since his talk with Nuada. Well, more of a talk at Nuada than with him. Still, it gave John a point of reference that he was happy for. He still couldn't say how many days had passed, but he was starting to suspect that every day came with a beating. If it did, then it had been thirteen days. John would go with that. Thirteen days sounded much better than the complete lack of time that he had before. All this he was thinking as he scrubbed the throne room floor for the ump-teenth time. His knuckles were bruised from banging into the floor. His knees were sore from the constant pressure. His multitude of wounds ached at every move. John knew that his thoughts were a safer place to be. Thirteen days since he spoke to Nuada. It had only been thirteen. That wasn't so long.

As if lured by some scent of happiness from John, his Svartan captor appeared. The agent raised his eyes, then looked around him quickly. He could not see any blemishes on the floor that he had worked so hard to clean. Would today be without a beating? He wasn't entirely sure how he felt about that. How would he count the days? The Svartan man didn't give him time to ponder the situation, striding over the newly cleaned marble purposefully until he reached John. The human tilted his head up to watch the face of the man towering above him. He was so very tall. Then again, everyone had been taller than John. He was perpetually short. The thought gave him a little smile.

"What is that face?" His captor lowered a hand to John's jaw, gripping it in a crushing hold. The agent blinked at him. 

"Do...do you mean my expression?" His voice was barely above a whisper. It was always quiet when he spoke to the Svartan. Perhaps it was part fear, but he felt no fear at the moment. His captor squeezed his jaw, making John wince in pain. 

"Yes. What is it?" He growled. The human took a small breath. 

"A smile, sir." He answered softly. The Svartan released his jaw, shoving his head to the side. John moved it slowly, working the ache out, though he knew it wouldn't truly fade. 

"What have you to smile about, Agent Myers?" The man growled. John looked up at him again. Did he have a reason to smile? Oh yes. Thirteen days. He smiled again. His captor scowled at him, grabbing him by his injured wrists and raising him into the air. John cried out weakly. "Stop making that face." He hissed, face inches from the human's. 

"S-sorry, sir!" He gasped, pain lancing up his arm. The Svartan dropped him, letting him collapse in a heap. 

"No. You're not. Not yet." John looked up as he crossed to the entrance of the room. His captor barked something in a language that John didn't understand and two guards stepped inside. 

They wore simple tunics and silver armor styled much like what Nuada wore. The thought of Nuada almost took John back into his mind. He was safe with Nuada. The elf prince might not like him, but he certainly wasn't hurting him. Not as it was, at least. He was torn back to the present, however, when the guards began peeling off pieces of armor. 

They revealed inch after inch of the cloth below, then removed that as well. John's captor crossed to his throne and watched as the two approached the human. They pulled him to his feet, ignoring his wounds, and stripped him of his pants. John gasped when the cold air hit him. His pants were the only clothing he really had left. He had used the last of his shirt two days ago.

He didn't get a chance to lament the loss of his pants as the two guards tossed him to the floor. They began stroking themselves, eyes fixed on the human sprawled before them. John's eyes went wide. He had been beaten so many times, tortured over the slightest mistake. This was the first time in a long time that he felt scared. 

He turned his eyes to his captor, affecting a pleading gaze. The Svartan smirked, waving his men to get on with it. John had no time to muster a protest as he was pulled and shoved to his knees. One guard stood in front of him, the other knelt behind. The human felt tears pricking his eyes. Of all the things to happen to him, why this? The pain was more than enough. He had broken. He was no more than a slave that took joy in his beatings because they let him count the days. Now this? 

The humiliation ate at him inside. How would he face Nuada when he returned to his cell? The prince thought of all humans with such disgust, John couldn't begin to imagine how much disdain this act would add. Tears slipped through his hold, hot and wet as they cut twin tracks through the bloody grime on his face. They were the first in his entire time as a captive. They would not be the last for the day.

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Nuada was pacing when John was brought back again. As usual, his eyes went to the Svartan. It was a different one this time. One in a guard's uniform. He met Nuada's eyes, smirking at the prince, as he dragged a limp form behind him. Nuada found it difficult to keep his eyes from straying to John. He hated these Svartans too much to give them the satisfaction of seeing him worry for the human. 

The guard deposited John in his cell, shutting and locking the door. Again, the elf prince watched only him until he vanished from the room. 

Once the Svartan left, Nuada rounded towards John. His body didn't seem to be in worse condition than it had been that morning. Still, it was unusual that he would be unconscious when they brought him back. Golden eyes darted over the human's broken form. Molted bruises, dried and fresh blood, stained cloth bandages. He appraised the injuries carefully. He had seen them all before. 

No. There were new bruises under his jaw. Nuada allowed himself a small scowl. He wished he didn't care. The fact that he did made things harder. 

He had started with nothing but scorn for the human. His death could not erase the memories of elves that he had seen slaughtered under than hands of humanity. Nor could he forget that his people were crammed into holes and hovels, suffocating beneath the world of man, while humans continued to destroy the very earth that nurtured them. Humans were creatures of hate and greed.

Not this one. 

Nuada noticed it slowly at first. The way that the human would return to his cell, battered and broken. He would patch himself up without a word. He never tried to run when his cell door opened. Every day gave him more wounds. Injuries that he had accumulated began to pile up on one another. That was something a human deserved...and yet something about the way the human spoke on the first day, his pleas for the Svartan not to harm Nuada or Nuala, had been growing in the back of his mind. The human had been genuine. 

At first, he dismissed the thought. No human was so honest or so selfless. Then the days passed. John never complained. He always returned. Nuada saw the pain clearly in the human's brown eyes, but he never ran away. He was faithful to his word. He let himself be a slave, beaten every day, simply to protect two elves that he knew nothing about. 

Nuada had never met a human so noble or pure. Someone like that was rare. It was a quality he had only seen before in a few of his own kind, namely his sister. Wounding someone like that was a sin. Wounding his sister had always been one of his only pains. It was why he trained. He was skilled so that she would be safe. 

Now he had found this pure human with the same kind heart and even his skill as a warrior was useless to prevent his injuries. 

The anger at his helplessness was growing every day. His hatred of humans was not forgotten, but this one was special. He shouldn't be treated this way. 

Pacing normally helped him think. He had started when his respect for the human made it impossible to remain unaffected by his injuries. It became a daily activity. Every morning, he would pace when John was taken away. His thoughts focused on how to get himself and the human free. Quickly enough, his focus would be interrupted by an image of John in his head. His eyes. His pale form. His voice, heard only the first day, but a memory of earnest hope that remained. Nuada found himself thinking of the human until he returned. 

He was surprised when the human finally spoke to him. He had been pacing as he usually did until he saw the blood pooling from beneath the man's dirty brown hair. Nuada found it impossible to look away. He ached to reach through the bars. To ease the pain of this pure human. 

While his long held anger and sudden caring for the human battled, a voice interrupted his thoughts. The human apologized. He apologized for the acts of ancestors he knew nothing about and for his own hand in their shared imprisonment. He spoke of good and bad among humans and wished for the elves to be able to return to the surface. Then, he wondered aloud if the Svartans would let Nuada go when he died. 

The elf prince felt his stomach turn. They wouldn't, he wanted to inform the human, but then John wished for his freedom and asked that he not massacre the humans he had hated for so long. Nuada felt something inside of him shatter. 

The human passed out, an apology on his lips, and the elf prince walked to the bars to reach for him. His hatred, all of it, could not apply to this human. John was different. He pulled him close to the bars and gingerly fixed the bandage on his head. It was bad for the human to sleep with so much lost blood. He wanted to wake him, but to what end? At least asleep, John wasn't in pain. Asleep, he was smiling. 

Thirteen days later, the guard brought John in. It had been thirteen days since Nuada had decided he wanted to save the human more than anything else in the world. He would give up everything. His throne, his blade, his hatred of the humans...if he could find a way not to harm Nuala in the process, he would give his own life. 

Then, he got the last reason he would ever need to protect the human from all of this. His careful search over John's prone form had found nothing except the bruises on his jaw. Still, he reached through the bars to grasp the human's arm and pulled him closer as gently as he could. His cool fingers found John's pulse. It was thready, but seemed to be the same. He turned the human's face, tenderly touching his bruised jaw. It didn't seem broken, although his mouth hung open as if it hurt to close. 

Nuada brushed a strand of hair from the human's face, then frowned and placed his hand on his forehead. It was too hot. John was feverish. He scanned the human's body again. Something must have happened for him to descend into illness. None of his wounds looked infected, a miracle given how weak humans were, and the only place for new wounds to be out of his sight would be underneath his pants. Nuada shifted to roll up each pants leg, checking carefully. Aside from a few bruises and the heavily blackened knees, he saw nothing. Gentle hands patted the cloth covered sections of the human's body. The front seemed uninjured. When he touched John's hip to roll him slightly, the human gave a pained moan. Nuada stilled.

He watched as John sank back into the dark oblivion before he started again. He opened the clasp of his pants, sliding them down slightly over the emaciated hips. Their captors had fed them, but not enough for John to keep his natural weight. As the cloth slid away, Nuada noticed two things. First, the hand shaped bruises staining the human's pale hips; and second, the mixture of red and white smeared over the top of his legs. In an instant, Nuada knew why John was unconscious. He knew what had been done to the human. Rage, white hot and pulsing, burned through him. He fixed the human's pants, unable to fix the injuries inside his small body. Nuada raised his hand back to John's cheek, hoping his cool flesh would ease the burning fever. 

They would pay for what they had done to John. They would all pay dearly. 

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John awoke to a cool touch. It was very pleasant. For some reason, he felt far too hot. The touch against his cheek was heaven. He nuzzled into it, happy to find that it did not withdraw. The cool pressure smelled like the forest. Like dirt and rain. It was the smell of completely fresh air. He hadn't smelled fresh air in ages. John wanted to melt into everything that the smell and touch provided him. It was a comfort he wanted so desperately. But it had to be a dream, didn't it? He wasn't in the fresh air. He was in a cold, dark cell. He was in pain, hoping for the day when it ended, in a dungeon where he could never be free.

The cool touch moved, running over his cheekbone slowly. It was bliss. After all that he had been through, this gentle touch was wiping it all from his mind. Don't stop. He pleaded internally. Never stop. 

"Wake up time, Agent Myers!" The touch withdrew at the sound of the loud voice. John whimpered. Without it, he hurt so much. His body burned. 

"He will not rise. He is too ill." The other voice was calm. It oozed over John like a soothing balm, slipping over his wounded form. 

"Well that's too bad. The guards wanted to play again." John saw flashes inside his eyelids. Two men. Forcing his body into action while his mind protested. Choking him, tearing his insides. Pain. Heat. He gave a whimper at the memories, body starting to shiver despite feeling so hot. 

"Leave him alone." There was an edge of danger to the soft voice. He wasn't sure why. The sound was so comforting. Like a running stream. He didn't even mind the sharpness in the words. He just wanted to hear more of the voice as it chased away his dark memories.

"Getting protective over a human? What would your people think now that the great Prince Nuada has sunk so low?" John opened his eyes slowly. His vision swam, but he saw the people in the room. It really was Nuada. The elf prince stood near his cell door, eyes flashing at the Svartan that had come for John. 

Nuada was defending him? His heart swelled. He didn't know why, but the elf prince's care for him had made something pleasant blossom in his chest.

"The great prince is dead. My people may think as they wish, but this human is pure. Do not defile him again with your touch." Nuada spoke coldly. The Svartan's arrogant smirk morphed into a snarl.

"You court death, Prince of nothing." He hissed. Nuada tilted his head minutely.

"Then come and grant it to me." John felt a stab of fear. What was he doing?! He would die! John couldn't lose Nuada. Not only for the sake of Abe and Nuala, but for his own as well. He needed the elf prince. His presence was the only constant, the only relief in a world of pain and misery. 

"W-wait!" He could barely manage to speak. His throat burned. "I-I can work...please...I can work, so do not...do not hurt him.." He fought to rise, body failing him even as he pushed it. His head was spinning. Darkness crowded his vision, but John forced it away. The Svartan smirked at him, then turned his gaze back to Nuada. 

"It seems the human can work just fine." He stepped an inch closer to the prince, taunting him with his expression. "I think that more than two of my guards should work with him this time." He sneered quietly.

Nuada's hands were through the bars in a flash, grabbing the Svartan's head and twisting. A sickening crunch rang through the dungeon and the body began to turn and melt quickly into a black ink. The elf prince grabbed something from the Svartan's belt before that too became ink and stepped back until the body had finished dissolving. 

John stared at the elf prince in shock. He had never expected... The sudden change made his fevered mind spin. Nuada stepped back to the door of his cell, hand clasped around the keys that he must have taken from the Svartan's belt. He let himself out, then turned his golden eyes to John.

"Stay awake. I will return." He commanded softly. John gave a slow nod. Nuada was there one moment, then gone in the next. The agent watched the place where he'd been, wondering silently if he really would come back. Nuada might have seemed cold and his past spoke of cruel intentions, but he treated John with a softness that the agent had never felt before. 

He laughed at himself. He was falling for a fellow prisoner in a high emotion environment. All of his Quantico training told him that it was his brain reaching for a connection. No matter how he felt right now, he wasn't in love with Nuada... He couldn't be. Besides, what good was unrequited love to him? His father had drilled into his mind many times that he was nothing to be loved. If his own, human father couldn't love him, then what chance did he have at a place in the heart of an elven prince?

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John had passed out when Nuada returned. The elf prince cursed, hurrying to his side. A quick check of his vitals calmed him slightly. John was alive, but his fever was worse and his body was teetering on the edge of survival. Nuada gently scooped the human into his arms. 

He wished he hadn't left him alone. John probably thought he wouldn't come back. He cradled the human's head against his shoulder and carried him out through the freshly massacred halls. 

He had cleared the way of any that had the gall to attack him. The rest now watched as he carried the wounded human past them and out of the Svartan castle. No one would follow him. Not if they valued their lives.

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John awoke to the steady beep of his heart monitor. He listened to the sound for several minutes before trying to open his eyes. White stung his retinas and he quickly closed them again with a groan. Why were hospital rooms so white? Weren't people in enough pain without being blinded as well? 

The sound of his voice seemed to have gotten someone's attention, because he heard his name in the hall. He didn't recognize the speaker. No shocker there. After all, who would come visit him in a hospital? His father was the only family he had left, since Uncle Thad died, and he wouldn't bother with his failure of a son, even if he weren't still in prison. 

"John?" The agent almost opened his eyes again, though the memory of the white room stopped him. That voice was familiar. 

"Abe?" His throat was dry. The sound of his voice was like sandpaper to his ears. A hand touched his arm, the sensation of webbed fingers confirming that it was indeed his icthyo sapien friend.

"We are so glad you are back, John." Abe's voice was quiet. That was good. John was entirely certain that a loud voice would give him a headache.

"Back..." He murmured. Back where? At the BPRD? No. Everyone he would have gone back to see there had quit. Back to the Antarctica base? That could be it...

"Back to consciousness, John. You have been asleep for nine days." Abe must have been reading him. John felt the urge to chuckle as a memory of Hellboy telling the sapien not to read him floated to the surface. He missed them. Maybe if he slept, he could dream about them. "No, John. Stay awake." Abe's voice was firm. John grimaced. 

He slowly fought to open his eyes, squinting in the white room to keep the pain at bay. The light slowly began to get more tolerable. He was able to look around. 

He was in a hospital bed, monitors behind him on his right side, and Abe sitting in a chair to his left. The familiar form and blue skin were a relief to his hurting eyes. It felt like he hadn't seen the sapien in years, but couldn't remember why.

"Abe..." The icthyo sapien flashed a facial expression that John had learned some time ago was a smile. He shifted back, no longer leaning forward, and removed his hand from John's arm.

"It is good to see you too, John." He blinked and watched him with dark, unreadable eyes. John looked down at himself. It wasn't hard to figure out why he was in the hospital room now. His body was covered in bandages. One of his wrists was in a plaster cast. IVs had been hooked to his arm, dripping all manner of liquids into him.

"What happened...?" He wasn't entirely certain that he wanted to know. So many wounds had to be painful to accumulate. Maybe it was best if he simply forgot. 

Abe seemed to agree, because rather than volunteering information as he normally would, he was silent. That worried John more than anything. Before he could ask again, another voice entered the conversation. 

"So you are awake, Agent John T. Myers." He turned his head to the doorway at his right. 

Immediately, he knew something was wrong. She wasn't supposed to be here. She was supposed to be in her cell. Meladae walked into the room slowly, body swaying as if she were making a purposeful show of it, even though John knew she wasn't. Her dark hair fanned out behind her, emerald eyes fixed on him in the knowing way that made him wary.

"How are you...?" Her eyes turned to Abe. John looked back at him. 

"After I found your letter in my book, we retraced your actions. Lady Meladae informed us what you had done and helped us to find you." He offered. John blinked. His letter? 

Then it all came back. A flood of memory and information struck him hard. For a moment, he felt faint. He knew where his wounds had come from. He knew where he had been. Everything was there, mocking him brutally. 

"John?" He blinked again, rapidly repeating the action until his eyes cleared. Abe was leaning forward again. If he touched him now, he would see all that John had suffered through. Maybe he already saw it. Either way, the agent didn't want to share his agony with his friend. He jerked his arm back before Abe could touch him, lurching to the side of his bed. 

"Don't..." He breathed. He wanted to shout, but he didn't have the strength. A hand fell on his shoulder and he looked up into Meladae's warm green eyes. 

"John, it is over. You are safe now." She assured him. For some reason, she was comforting now, where before she had always seemed menacing. He relaxed onto the bed slowly, swallowing hard.

"S-sorry...I'm okay..." He replied hollowly. Meladae patted his arm lightly, turning her focus to Abe. 

"The siblings are on their way. He has sensed that John is awake." The agent looked up, eyes turning from one to the other. Abe nodded, rising to his feet.

"Thank you. I shall get his examination under way then." 

The Svartan woman smiled, leaning down to kiss the corner of John's head dotingly, before turning to leave. The agent watched her go. She seemed to have gone from enemy to friend while he was away. Or perhaps she had always been a friend. It was so hard to tell sometimes. 

"John." Abe redirected his attention. He looked up at his friend, whose hand was poised over him hesitantly. "As your primary doctor, I need to check how your wounds are healing. Will you permit me?" 

The agent swallowed again. His throat was still too dry. He gave a slow nod to the sapien, then watched his hand scan over his body. John was never sure how he got information like that. Then again, he didn't have the unique frontal lobe that Abe possessed. When the hand finally lowered back to its owner's side, John spoke. 

"So, am I gonna live, doctor?" He asked wryly. The sapien gave him another gentle smile.

"Your body seems well on its way to a full recovery." John tried not to note how he had mentioned his body specifically, and not his mind. "I suggest plenty of fluids and rest. You are not to engage in any strenuous activity. Doing so may cause irreparable damage." Abe warned sternly. John almost laughed. It had been a bad habit of his to run into danger despite the consequences. They had worked together long enough to know that much. 

"Abraham." The icthyo sapien turned his head to the door, causing John to follow his gaze. A beautiful elven woman stepped inside, making her way gracefully over to Abe and taking his hand. Her golden eyes, pale skin, and white-gold hair contrasted to his dark clothes and blue skin in a way that was ethereal and lovely. John smiled.

"This must be Princess Nuala." He nodded to her, receiving a warm smile in return. Abe was looking at her lovingly, almost as if he were afraid she would vanish the instant he took his eyes from her. It was a very founded worry. 

"I am very grateful to you, Agent John Myers. Your efforts returned my brother and I to life. That is something that we shall never forget." Her voice was soft, like the calls of birds in a summer forest. John smiled at her, hoping that his expression was kind despite the bandages on his face. 

"It was nothing." He replied quietly. Nuala and Abe traded a knowing look. John didn't ask. Whatever it was, it probably had something to do with his naivete and he didn't really feel like finding out. 

"You are foolish." A low, masculine voice cut in. John looked back, feeling his heart jump at the familiarity. Nuada had entered the room without his noticing and now stood beside his bed opposite of Abe and Nuala. John saw his hands clasped over the railing of his bed tightly and found himself looking up into the golden gaze that stared through him. 

"Nuada..." He couldn't bring himself to look away from the eyes above him. The elven prince had brought him so much comfort during their captivity. What would they be now? Friends? Enemies? Would Nuada vanish into a world that John could not be part of? The agent found the thought of never seeing him again almost as painful as his wounds. The elven prince looked away first, turning his face to his sister. 

"Nuala, Abraham, a moment?" His level tone gave no clue as to why he was asking. The two of them nodded and left the room slowly. John stared up at the pale elf, watching wordlessly. He didn't know what he wanted to say to him. Didn't know if he had anything to say at all. Nuada lowered his eyes back to John. "Had we not met the way we did, I would have killed you." His voice was even, no remorse in the sound, yet no anger either. John nodded slowly. He had heard enough about the Golden Army to know that Nuada wasn't exaggerating.

"And now?" He watched the elven prince's eyes flick away, then back to him. 

"Now, I can think of nothing but protecting you..." John inclined his head a little, eyes widening at the words. 

"I...I'm sorry..." If he was so deeply entrenched in the prince's mind, it must be frustrating for him. John owed his life and his sanity to Nuada. He didn't want to be any trouble to him now that everything was over. A soft chuckle drew him from his thoughts. The sound was wonderful, deep and melodic. He had never imagined Nuada making such a sound.

"You are too pure, John Myers." John gave a chuckle this time.

"So I've been told." Nuada raised a hand, bringing the cool palm against the agent's cheek gently. John couldn't help but lean into the touch. His skin smelled of nature. It was comforting and the sweet coolness of the touch eased him.

"I will stay close to you, John Myers. To keep you out of trouble." John smiled.

"You'll get bored." Nuada shook his head minutely. The agent chuckled again. "Okay. If you say so. But if you're going to stick around, you should just call me John."

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Nuada watched the hospital room. John had been sleeping for three hours. It would be another hour before the human's nightmares began again. His sleep was always interrupted by the nightmares. Then his heart rate would spike. He would thrash in his bed. Once already he had ripped out his IV. The doctors and nurses would try to calm him, but John would fight them. The only way he would relax was for Nuada to hold him. The elven prince had not been there the first two times. He had been with his sister. After the second time, he stopped leaving. John wouldn't sleep peacefully without him. If Nuala wanted to speak to him, she could come to the human's room.

"Do you always watch Agent Myers sleep, Prince Nuada?" The elven prince didn't shift his gaze from the sleeping form of the human. He knew the speaker was a Svartan female. He had heard John call her Meladae. That made her Princess Meladae of the Yukion Svartans. He knew of her, but he had no idea how the human had met her. 

"You know that such is not true. You are the reason we met. The one who sent him to be enslaved." Nuada replied coldly. He felt her stop a few inches from him, warm skin radiating heat at his side.

"I did not know the extent of what would happen to him. And I did warn him that he was trading his life in exchange for Princess Nuala's resurrection." She stepped a little closer to the glass that separated them from John. 

"Trading his life to your brother, you mean." Her mouth twisted down into a faint scowl.

"Had there been another with the ability, I would never have sent him to my brother. Scill was a tyrant and a monster whose contempt for others extended even to our people." She raised her chin delicately. "I thank you for ridding my people of his reign."

"My pleasure." Nuada narrowed his eyes as he saw John frowning in his sleep. That expression pained him in ways he didn't care to think too much about.

"He is going to have nightmares soon." Meladae said softly. Her emerald eyes turned to him, searching for something that he would not show on his face. "Don't you wish to ease them?" Nuada stayed silent. Of course he wanted to ease the nightmares. Still, he wouldn't say so aloud. If he did, he might have to think about why he cared so much. John was pure and determined. He was admirable in the face of adversity. Still, something had been growing at the edge of Nuada's mind. Something more. "Prince Nuada." 

"Yes?" He wanted her to go away. She was making him think too much about this. She turned, leaning on the glass to look up at him. 

"Your presence eases his pain, does it not?" The elven prince let his golden eyes drift to her momentarily before going back to John. 

"Yes." 

"Then perhaps you should form a bond with him. He will feel you near even if you cannot be close to him." She tilted her head, letting several black strands of hair filter over her face. 

"You suggest a hand-fasting? To a human?" Nuada's mind trailed to bringing John with him to Bethmoora. Making the man into his partner forever. He could show the human so many things that would make him happy. He liked John's face when he was happy. 

When he realized what kind of thoughts were playing through his head, Nuada scowled and quickly pushed them to the side. He would not think about such trivial things. The human would die long before he ever did. The idea of keeping him close was foolish.

"Actually, I had another suggestion. But such an idea from you is intriguing, Prince Nuada." He cursed internally. He had given away more than he was even willing to admit to himself. "Agent Myers would make you a wonderful partner." Meladae smiled at him softly. "Especially if you intend to return to Bethmoora. He could be a valuable confidant for you." Nuada pursed his lips slightly. That much was true. If he were to regain his place in Bethmoora, he would have many responsibilities. Having someone with which he could relax would ease his burden greatly. John was certainly a relaxing influence.

"He would die." As if that were the only issue. Nuada knew that keeping John at his side would require a great deal of work. There would be those that questioned his sudden change of heart towards humanity. It would be their own ignorance thinking he had changed so vastly. Humans still stirred the old rage inside of him, but having known John, he was more willing to believe that there could be those with good hearts. 

Perhaps John had warmed him somehow. It was nice being around him. Still, what would happen to him when the human died? How could he let himself get attached to someone that would leave him within a mere blink of his long life? 

"He doesn't have to live a human life." Nuada turned his eyes to her again. She had his attention now. "As I said, you could bind him to you. His life and yours, locked together. He would age at the same rate as you and live as long. And the presence of you would linger in his heart, as well as his presence in yours." Meladae slipped a hand into a pocket within the folds of her skirt and removed a carved, wooden box. "If you wish to bind him, I will assist you." Nuada eyed the box suspiciously. 

"Why do you offer this?" He asked slowly. The Svartan princess gave him a sweet smile.

"Agent Myers saved my people and spoke to me as a friend when I was held prisoner here. I wish to repay him with something that will grant him as much joy as he gave me." She lowered her eyes. "I feel that you two belong... You will make him happy." The elven prince turned his eyes back to John. The human was starting to shift uncomfortably. His nightmares were beginning. 

"Return this evening. You will have your answer then." He stated, stepping around her to move inside the room. 

John's writhing calmed when Nuada sat at his bedside, turning his head into the hand that cupped his cheek. The prince watched him contemplatively. He had a lot of thinking to do before John woke. 

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"What?" John stared, wide eyed, as Nuada gave him a silent nod. "You want me to...what? How?" Suddenly the elf was asking this? How was he supposed to reply?

"Be my partner. Live the same length of time with me, at my side." The prince explained patiently. His face was still the same serious one that he always had, but the severity in his eyes had been replaced with something...something affectionate. John's heart misfired, leaving a startling absence in his chest. Nuada's eyes slipped to the heart monitor and he flashed a brief smirk that had John blushing. 

"B-but...you really...want me?" He swallowed hard. After all they had been through, of course there would be some lingering feelings, but that could change. What if they weren't compatible? What if Nuada grew tired of him? Elves' lives were very long. More than long enough for him to grow tired of John. The prince seemed to guess the nature of his thoughts and raised a hand, placing it over the human's heart softly. 

"I want all of you, John Myers. I inquired from Abraham what you were like before I met you. We can share in many things. I find you to be a fitting partner." Nuada said honestly. John heard his heart monitor miss another beep and his cheeks turned a darker shade of scarlet. Was there really anything he could say to that? He was attracted to the prince; intrigued by his past and curious about him. He had heard from Abe that he was a skilled fighter and very intelligent. If anything, John should be begging Nuada to let him stay at his side. This was more than he ever deserved. 

"I...if you really want me...then I would be honored to be your partner." John hoped to god he didn't sound silly. Apparently it didn't matter, as Nuada took the moment to lean in and kissed him solidly. The feel of cool lips warming with the heat between them added to the electric jolt of bliss that threatened to overwhelm John. He felt his heart beating fast, body waking to pleasure for the first time in ages. He wanted nothing more than to stay with Nuada like this for the rest of the night.

"Ehem." An exaggerated tone broke their kiss and the two turned to look at the intruder. Meladae smiled mischievously. "So, I take it you two are going to bond?" Nuada narrowed his eyes at her, then turned his head to John. He placed his lips at the human's ear and whispered. 

"We will continue this later."

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Well, sorry for the no smut.... I wanted to put it in, but I really liked this ending.


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